The Marginally Revised Tale of Tom, Rick and Harry
by ValkyrieVeela
Summary: Kind of a combination of my favourite tropes: we have Dark!Harry, Non-BWL!Harry, Twin!Harry, Intelligent!Harry, and, well, probably just angsty Dark!Harmony where normally you have angsty Dark!Dramione. Anyway. I have a plot, I like it, it will be multi-chapter and I will probably try to slip in some humour but really, it's meant to be DARK.
1. A Bad Beginning

**4.1.16, Mon**

 **A/N: The usual Potter-twins-Harry-not-BWL trope, Dark!Harry, but not, but Harmony, but... well, I'm doing my take on it. I like Dark!Dramione, but in this case Harry is going to be the anti-hero etc, and he's going to be more awesome than I can ever make Draco in good conscience, despite having just started a Dramione fic. Draco can be dragged into shape, but his original canon version is pretty damning so it takes a lot of effort. Making Harry dark is much easier, especially since I'm basing him off Martin in R. J. Anderson's faery tale book series ( _Knife_ , _Rebel_ , _Arrow_ , etc) ( _Swift_ , _Nomad_ , because who needs 'etc' when they know the answer?). Kudos if you get the reference, bonus points if you like it.  
**

* * *

The Marginally Revised Tale of Tom, Rick and Harry

"Stand aside, you silly girl!" _Pathetic_. He expected better from _her_. It was amazing how much motherhood had weakened her, he reflected as he blasted her away with a killing curse. It was strange how she'd decided the outcome of their duels in the past, yet her lout of a mate had - in shocking and sudden accordance with his breeding - actually attempted to fight back. _Shame_ , he thought, as he stepped over her body. _A real waste._

Moving into the nursery she'd tried so hard to protect - well, verbally defend - so _unlike_ her - he spotted at last the cause of his opponent's weakness.

The boys in the cot were wailing. They clearly didn't understand what was going on, and they screamed in the hope that their mother would wake. He curled his lip in disdain. He had no way of telling the boys apart, but he supposed it didn't really matter in what _order_ he killed them. Either way, his supposed enemy would be dead and he would remain unchallenged. Twirling his wand idly in their direction, he tried to choose which one to go for first. He was missing a simply _delightful_ little Samhain gathering at Lucius' mansion for this, after all, so he might as well entertain himself.

Drawing closer to the cot, he frowned. His initial observation had been flawed. Only _one_ of the twins clutched through the bars of the cot to reach his mother, wailing and shrieking as he did so. The other... _he_ had simply closed his tiny fists around the bars in order to support himself as he crouched, wobbly. Though his mouth too was open, it was his brother that was actually making all the noise. The intruder's eyes met those of the curious child, shocked to discover that they were the same shade of green that had just orphaned the boy.

The Dark Lord swallowed. Perhaps it would be better instead to finish the job quickly and arrive fashionably late to Narcissa's little soiree. Yes, that would do the trick - he slashed his wand furiously at the boys with a flash of green light, not caring which he hit and already preparing his second curse when -

" _AAAAAARGH!_ " Screaming, he never got the chance to fire a second curse. As his body disintegrated and his soul fractured, his screams were almost drowned out by the child whose forehead now bore an angry red lightning-shaped scar. The second child, the one who was in fact the older of the two, remained as unaffected by this as he had his parents' deaths. Unlike his little brother, he didn't get upset over what he couldn't understand. Strictly adhering to this principle, he didn't so much as flinch when he felt an alien influence weld itself to his soul.

* * *

"They're calling it 'Ricky Potter Day', Albus! And honestly - leaving him with _Augusta_ , of all people!"

"I thought you liked Lady Longbottom, Minerva?" Dumbledore said mildly.

"Oh, for - it's not a question of _liking_ her, Albus, it's a question of trusting her with children!" Professor McGonagall cried in frustration. "You _know_ how long it took to get poor Frank out of his shell at Hogwarts!"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied calmly, "And he went on to become a first-rate Auror, and now has a son of his own. Augusta is perfectly capable - "

" _No_ , Albus! No! She has proven herself to be strict bordering on the abusive and seems to think that crushing a child's soul is character-building! You can't _possibly_ \- "

"The decision has been made and carried out, Minerva. Bathilda has already delivered Richard to his new home."

"Oh, _goodie_ , leaving the poor boy alone with two tempestuous old bats to hover over him(!)" She spat, not unlike her Animagus form.

"Minerva!" Dumbledore's usually gentle tone had suddenly become razor-sharp, and McGonagall shrank back slightly.

"His name is just Ricky, Albus. If _you_ don't know that, how could _she?_ How is she better qualified to take care of him than - than - " Silently, Dumbledore held out a pocket handkerchief, which his colleague blew her nose on noisily. Thrusting it back at him, she swallowed a sob. "They were named after kings Richard and Henry Tudor, but _their names_ are _Ricky_ and _Harry Potter!_ They were _meant_ to be a set, Albus, it's - it's just not _right!_ "

"There, there, Minerva," he said somewhat distantly as he patted her on the back. "It mayn't feel right to you, but there it is. Remember, it's all - "

"'For the greater good'?" She snarled. "You're leaving both boys alone with psychopaths, Albus. This _cannot_ end well."

" _Both_ boys, Minerva? Surely Lily's sister isn't quite as awful as that?" She bristled.

"You sent me to watch them, judge them - they have a boy of their own, with whom they clearly demonstrated today that they are the exact opposite of Augusta and equally as unfit to raise - "

"Here he comes!"

"- What?"

"Hagrid is bringing young Harry here - "

"On _Sirius Black's_ flying motorbike! _Albus_ Percival _Wulfric_ Brian Dumbledore, _what on earth_ were you - ?!"

"'Ello, Pr'fessors!" The ungainly half-giant stumbled off the bike, turning round to carefully remove the bundle of cloth he had with him. "Got the li'l'un 'ere!" He stepped closer to grandly present them with the dishevelled pile of blankets. "Er - 'ang on - " He poked about a bit and revealed the indignant face of a black-haired, green-eyed baby boy. The child glared up at them all quite unnervingly, until his eyes fell upon McGonagall. He lit up completely with an adorable smile, and he attempted to reach his arms up to her, though his face fell as he tried again and again to squirm his way out of the blankets.

"Och, sweetie - " McGonagall snatched the child from Hagrid and began to unwind the pseudo-straightjacket. "There y'are, laddie," she cooed in her best brogue as the child wound his little arms around her neck and nuzzled her shoulder. "I've go' ye, I've go' ye."

Hagrid and Dumbledore paled rapidly, giving each other stunned glances.

"Ah, Minerva?" She looked at him. "Ah, why, may I ask - that is to say - "

"He's just a wee kitten, Albus. Just wants a little love and attention." She shot a dark look at the house on her right. "Which he has _no_ chance of getting living with _them_ , nor will his brother get with Augusta. That, I can promise you."

"Just hand the child over, Minerva." Dumbledore ordered wearily. Grumbling, she re-wrapped the child - much better than he had been before - and passed him over to Dumbledore, all the while hissing instructions at him on how to properly hold the 'puir wee bairn'.

"Alright, alright!" Dumbledore waved her off irritably. "Now, to say our goodbyes to young Harry. A moment of silence, if you please." There was a pause. "Harry," he began, "we give you now to your family, who are to look after you as only closest blood-kin can." He ignored McGonagall's snort. "We hope that you will have a carefree childhood - "

"Pun _so_ intended."

" - and that when you are old enough, you find yet more happiness among our ranks," he hesitated, then rushed, "despite the fact we care much more about your brother. Er, Amen, thank Merlin, God save the Queen, forever in our thoughts. Bye." He thrust the baby towards Hagrid. "Bad back old fellow, you'll have to do the deed." Sniffling, Hagrid tenderly placed Harry on the doorstep of the house. "And this, give him this." Dumbledore handed him a letter as he made to get up. "There now, all done! I hear Mr. Diggle's celebrations are to be quite spectacular this evening, so why don't we all head along to - "

" _Albus!_ " Hissed McGonagall, "If you _dare_ leave this boy out here all night without so much as a warming charm - !"

"Well, we can't possibly wake his relatives at _this_ hour of the night, can we?" Dumbledore replied incredulously. "What sort of impression do you think _that_ would create?" With that, he shook his head disapprovingly for good measure, then Disapparated. Gaping at the spot he'd just stood in, McGonagall opened and closed her mouth silently a few times before clenching her jaw shut and whipping round to face Hagrid - who was already astride Black's motorbike and had just cleared spell-range.

Shaking with rage, McGonagall allowed herself a few minutes to calm down before shifting into her Animagus form and curling herself round the now-sleeping child.

* * *

 **I don't actually like the name 'Ricky' very much for an HP character, but I was deciding between 'Danny' and 'Tommy' when I realised that Voldemort was already technically 'Tommy', good as it would have been. Probably why JK chose it. Anyway, then for whatever reason I remembered that saying, you know, 'every Tom, Dick and Harry' and for some reason I thought using that as a title justified giving a character a name I wasn't sure about.**

 **Oh, well.**

 **So this is probably going to be Dark!Harmony, as previously stated (so I don't know why I tried making it funny) and if you have any suggestions feel free to let me know.**

 **VVxxxx**


	2. A New Narrative Context

**5.1.16, Tues**

 **A/N: Just got time to dash off a chapter. Hope it does the story justice, doesn't disappoint etc.**

* * *

" _MEOW!_ "

"Shoo! _Shoo!_ "

" _RAWR!_ "

"No, Auntie! She's a nice kitty!" The little boy snatched up the yowling tabby and tottered out into the garden. Petunia sighed.

"Whatever am I to do with that child?" She murmured softly. She folded her arms and watched with gentle eyes as her nephew stroked the cat back to calmness.

"Morning, Petunia. Haven't seen the paper, eh?" Shaking herself, Petunia Dursley's lips pursed and her eyes narrowed.

"Dudders up yet?"She offered him a thin smile.

"It's just on the table, dear." Her husband grunted as he swiped it towards himself.

"It's not yet nine o'clock, dear. You know how Diddykins needs his rest." She glanced out of the window. Predictably, Harry had 'hidden' himself in the myrtle.

"What about... _that boy?_ " The sneer was audible. Petunia bristled slightly before reminding herself, as she had had to do increasingly frequently nowadays, that Harry - _that boy_ \- was a burden and a freak, just like her sister.

"Already run off to God knows where." Vernon grunted again. It had transpired in the years following their marriage that grunting was his primary method of communication. She hadn't minded at first; since she'd had two boys to look after she'd been willing to ignore it, but what with her nephew's frankly phenomenal speech development she'd realised she'd missed having someone to talk to.

"I'll be in the garden if you need me, dear." Grunt.

She exchanged her cooking apron for her thicker gardening pinafore - hygiene was essential - and took a basket and some pruning shears, snatching up her hat as she slipped through the door.

* * *

The giggling was coming from the gooseberries, Petunia thought. She was pruning the roses - by pure coincidence, naturally - and happened to be knelt within two feet of her erstwhile nephew's hiding place.

"Ouch!" She tugged off her glove to suck on her wounded thumb. She should've bought a new pair a week ago, she knew but - "Harry? What - oh!"

The little boy with her sister's eyes was gazing solemnly at her injured hand, giggling quite forgotten. Without a word, he took her hand in his small ones and smoothed over the wound. Petunia's own eyes widened in a mixture of horror and fascination as she clutched her newly-healed hand to her chest and stared at the child.

"... Harry, I - oh, my dear - thank you, for, ah - " she couldn't help but glance at the puncture mark that was no longer there, " - well, yes. But, Harry - " she reached out for his shoulder, " - you mustn't do something like that again, you understand?" He frowned.

"Why? It was good, wasn't it?" His earnest face, so innocent... _so like Lily's_ , her treacherous heart whispered. She shook her head.

"No, Harry, not - helping me was good, yes, but you shouldn't ever do... _that_. It's - it's a tingly feeling, isn't it?" She waited for his nod before continuing. "When you feel that tingly feeling, you must put it away again, you hear? Give it to the ground, or the sky, or plants, anything - just don't use it like this and don't bottle it up inside. It'll only spill out and you won't be able to control it."

"If I'm not allowed to use it, why am I giving it away? Why can't I have it?" Slightly more frantic now, she gave his shoulder a small shake.

"If you keep it locked away inside you it'll spill out eventually. You might hurt people by accident, and you don't want that, do you?" He shook his head seriously.

"No, Auntie."

"No... And, Harry?"

"Yes Auntie?"

"The tingling, it has to be a secret - just you and me, yes? Vernon and Dudley, they can't know. Vernon... he's very, very scared of the tingling. Your mother had it, and your father. Your parents' friends had it too, and they didn't use it nicely. It - have I ever told you the saying, 'absolute power corrupts absolutely'?"

"No, Auntie."

"Do you understand it?"

"Power makes people do bad things so that they can keep it or get more."

"That's exactly right. The tingling makes you feel powerful, doesn't it, Harry?"

"Yes, Auntie."

"Do you see now why you must hide it? And not tell anybody?"

"I understand your point, Auntie." She gave a little sigh of relief.

"Good boy, Harry. Now, where's that nice cat of yours?"

"She had things to do." _Sweet_ , she thought. He'd been friends with the tabby even when he'd been left on the doorstep. It was still a cat, however:

"Well, you'll need a proper bath then, won't you? Dudley's due for his after dinner. I'm sure no-one will mind if you have yours now." She ruffled his hair. "Off you pop."

Smiling, she waved him towards the house as she gathered up her things. She hadn't spotted Harry's careful evasion of her demands; if she had, she wouldn't have felt nearly so relieved. Harry himself had something of a storm going on inside his head, thanks to her attempted machinations. 'Absolute power corrupts absolutely' - all that meant was that he'd have to avoid absolute power, not that he couldn't have _any_ ; and as for hiding the tingling, well! He was seven years old, practically grown-up - and yes, he meant that ironically - he'd already been at school for three years, he knew perfectly well how to hide his, ah, _gifts_. His aunt was kind to him in private though, not like the others, and he'd thought perhaps he could trust her.

Once again, humanity had proved him wrong. There was no-one for him. Unless of course one counted his parents, who might have helped, if only they weren't, well, dead. Although he was growing suspicious of that story now that he knew they'd had the tingling too - a _car crash?_ For people of _their_ talents? Likely(!) His aunt had mentioned _friends_ , however, even if she had used the past tense... Something to investigate when he was a little older, perhaps. For now, though, he had petty playground bullies to practice on.

Covertly, of course. Wouldn't want to get into trouble, would we?


	3. Diagon Alley

**6.1.16, Wed**

 **A/N: Because anything is better than Latin revision. Especially Ancient Greek, but that's not tomorrow's exam :'(**

* * *

"Boy!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

"GAH!" Harry had appeared silently at Vernon's elbow. "Good _Lord_ , boy - do you _want_ to give me a heart attack, hm?!" Harry's cheery grin dropped and his expression morphed into one of innocent contrition.

"No, Uncle Vernon, of course not. I'm so sorry."

"Yes. Well." Vernon eyed him warily. Despite how nice and normal the boy was, Vernon remained vigilant in case of any... _freaky_ nonsense. "Fetch the post, would you? There's a good lad." He pointedly returned to his newspaper. Best not to have much contact with the boy. Just in case.

Harry switched his grin back on and stomped off to collect the post in the way he'd seen other boys walk. Crouching down to examine the letters - people don't disturb you when you're doing something as impossibly acrobatic as that, he'd learned - he saw that there were a couple of business letters, something from Dudley's Aunt Marge and -

Mr H. Potter

The Smallest Bedroom

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

What on earth?!

The envelope was heavy and yellowed - parchment, he hazarded - and the ink a poisonous green. _Like my eyes._ He shook his head, turning the letter over. No return address, of course, because that would make things easy - there was, however, an oddly detailed crest and a wax seal. _Naturally_.

He slid the letter into the waistband of his trousers (an old pair of Dudley's that his aunt had helped him take in, because Vernon didn't want to spend money on him and Petunia felt that sewing one's clothes was a valuable life skill) and reentered the kitchen, where he left the other letters on the table for his uncle, who didn't like to have physical contact with him if a all possible. Harry then snagged a piece of toast off the plate his aunt had prepared, placating her with a winning smile, and bounded upstairs to his room. _The Smallest Bedroom_.

Leaping onto the bed, he summoned from his desk the letter-opener he'd never had cause to use and sliced through the wax seal with glee. Out of the envelope fell two sheets of parchment folded together. Harry unfolded them and read the first page.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

 _Witchraft_ , Harry thought faintly, _Witchcraft_ _and_ _Wizardy_... _School_ _of_...

He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone knocked on his door.

"Yes?" Dudley Dursley opened the door and put his head through. Sadly, this feat meant opening the door nearly halfway so that his shoulders could come too on account of his stub of a neck.

"Mum wants to know 'f you want to come to London for my Smeltings uniform."

"Yeah, tell her I'll be down in a minute. Wouldn't want to miss out on this. You should've read the prospectus - the leaflet - " he amended, seeing his cousin's confusion, " - that uniform is the single worst insult to humanity there ever was, and I'd _hate_ to miss your first time wearing it." Dudley looked quite worried, before relaxing into a sneer.

"Yeah, well, _you're_ off to Stonewall, aren't you? And you'll be in my old things, but with grey dye. They'll _lynch_ you." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Fancy word, Dudders. Been swotting up for the grand old alma mater...? For your dad's posh old school?" Dudley just smirked. It was enough for him that he knew a 'fancy word'; he didn't really think being mocked for it made sense, but that was just Harry. As his cousin had once explained to him when they were little, _if you don't understand something, don't let it bother you_. Or something like that, anyway.

"Seriously, you're doomed for your clothes alone - and you're a specky, scrawny runt to boot!" Harry laughed.

"I'll have my revenge, _Diddykins_ ," Dudley grimaced, "As well you know. Besides, _I'll_ look sinister and creepy - _you'll_ look like a trussed-up pumpkin, and I will hold the photos as blackmail even when you have great-grandchildren. If you make it that far. Lay off the pies, mate." Dudley rolled his eyes.

"Just let me bloody win for once, will you? You don't have to go _that_ far. Hey - what's that?" He pointed to the opened letter on the bed. "Since when do _you_ get letters?" Harry shrugged nonchalantly.

"Since it's clearly a prank letter. It's about me starting magic school in September, apparently." Dudley guffawed.

"Brilliant! I'm telling Dad - "

"No! I mean, you know how he gets about... well, he already thinks I'm a freak, he'll flip his lid if he thinks something fishy's going on. Just - don't tell him, ok?" Perplexed, Dudley nodded his assent.

"Right. I'll tell Mum about shopping in London then." Harry gave him a grateful smile.

"Thanks." The door shut. "How the bloody hell am I going to tell Aunt Petunia?"

* * *

"Oh, _Diddykins!_ " Petunia clapped her hands together. "You look _so handsome!_ "

"Yeah, Dudders," Harry grinned as he passed his aunt a handkerchief without taking his eyes off his cousin. "You look jolly spiffing, old boy."

Dudley glared at Harry and the mirror in turns as he inspected his new apparel. The Smeltings Academy uniform fit him very well, which in itself said something about the school's pupils and their dietary failings; worse yet, the kit included a maroon tailcoat, orange knickerbockers, a boater hat, and a knobbly stick.

"Thanks, Harry. I really appreciate it." Dudley hissed witheringly. "Six years," he murmured to himself as he faced the mirror again, "Seven years dressed like... _this_."

"Seven, actually, since Sixth Form's two years." Harry chortled. Just as Dudley's glare transformed into a murderous glower, his mother released the sob she'd been attempting to contain and threw herself into his arms, crying that he looked absolutely _marvellous!_

Himself releasing a pent-up display of emotion - in this case gleeful cackling - Harry joined in the hug-fest and told Dudley in his other ear that he looked like a pig in a wig and he'd never been more proud of his _darling_ Diddykins.

By the time all was calm, the uniform packed up and a bruise was fast developing on Harry's left shin, Harry felt it might be safe to venture onto a less comfortable topic.

"So - we've taken the photos, bought the hat, the stick, and the clothes, and we've got a nice cup of tea here to boot." Harry began, gesturing to the tea room in which the trio sat. "Now might be the time to bring up a slight issue I need to deal with, since we can consider Dudley's Special Day to be basically over."

"Oi!"

"Oh, shut up."

"What sort of issue are you talking about, Harry?" Aforementioned beloved nephew bit his lip.

"Well... I got a funny letter this morning - "

"I thought you said we weren't mentioning it?" Harry clicked his tongue.

"Not to _Vernon_ , no. It's ok to talk to Aunt Petunia about this stuff."

"About what?" Petunia had picked up on the air of worry and her tone was now sharp.

"Well, you see - "

" - Harry got a letter saying he was going to a magic school."

" _Dudley_ \- _!_ "

" _WHAT?!_ "

"Break it to her _gently_ , why don't you(?)"

"You-you-you h-have... a _letter_... a _Hogwarts_ _letter?!_ "

"Er, well, yeah," Harry blurted, taken aback. "How do you know it was a _Hogwarts_ letter though? Hang on - did you _know_ about this? Have you been _expecting_ this?" Petunia pursed her lips in response to Harry's furious glare.

"... Your mother got one when _she_ was eleven. So did that awful Snape boy from Spinner's End." She added with a sudden sneer.

"Was he one of Mum's friends you mentioned?"

"He _was_. I gather he called her some kind of dreadful magical insult when they were fifteen, though, and she refused to speak to him after that. Good riddance, I say! I never did like him. Horrible, _horrible_ boy. He ended up on the wrong side of the war in the end as well, so - "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait just a minute!" Harry's head was swimming with all the new information. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?!"

"Language!" She snapped.

"Never mind _that_ , what's all this about a _war_ , for God's sake? How much do you actually _know_ about this? How long have you been bottling this stuff _up_ for?!" Petunia gave a little sniff.

" _Lower_ your _voice_ , Harry, we are in a public place."

"Er," Dudley interjected somewhat faintly, "Yeah, we are. Would anyone mind explaining what the _hell_ you're both on about?"

"Language!"

"Mum!"

"Auntie!"

The boys whined in unison. Petunia forced herself to stop bristling and continued to sip her tea.

"Ok," Harry began explaining to his cousin, "So basically, my mum and dad had magic and so do I, and they went to this school - didn't they?" Petunia nodded tersely. "And now I've been invited to go and I need to buy all this stuff and I reckoned if it was anywhere it would be somewhere as huge and busy as London, where you can find pretty much anything."

"Not if you don't know where to look." Both boys turned to face Petunia once again. "We still have the afternoon free, since we thought it would take longer to find things in Dudley's size - "

" _Mum!_ "

" - and I'm sure we can use the time to think of a story to give Vernon."

"Alright, but how _else_ are we using this time?" Harry asked suspiciously. "And since when are you happy about me and magic?"

"Since I don't dare imagine what you'd do if I said no." Harry winced. They all took a moment to recall The Polkiss Incident. Shaking her head to rid herself of the image, Petunia continued briskly, "Therefore, we shall be spending the afternoon collecting your school supplies. We will, of course, have to visit the bank first, but it's all on the same street if I recall correctly, so it oughtn't to be a problem."

"What street?"

* * *

"Charing Cross Road is the magic street?" Petunia sighed.

" _No_ , Dudley. It's somewhere over _there_." She waved vaguely in the direction of the shops opposite.

"You mean you don't know?" Harry asked bitingly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry." This reassured them, until - "Of _course_ I don't know. What good is a secret wizarding street if we Muggles can see it and wander in willy-nilly?" Harry started.

"Er, 'Muggles'?" He asked tentatively.

"Their word for people without magic. As the name suggests, they don't really care much for us. Think we're - _animals_." Harry's mind boggled.

"And you _still_ want to go in there?!" She rolled her eyes.

"If _I_ don't, they'll send someone else to do it, and frankly I can't trust you with someone who doesn't know to keep a very close eye on you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He protested.

"You're a trouble-magnet, mate."

"Quite." Harry stared, flabbergasted.

"Oh, come on! When've I _ever_ -?"

"Need I mention... The Incident?" This time, all three of them winced.

"Mum," Dudley said in a horrified whisper, "We swore we'd never speak of it again!"

"And with good reason. I'm sure you understand my concerns bearing that in mind, Harry." He nodded dumbly. "Now, what I need you to do is look along that section of street until you see a grungy little pub, alright?"

"What?" Harry wrinkled his nose. "Why?" His aunt sighed.

"Just do as you're told." After a moment or two, he gave a nod and pointed.

"There."

"Where?"

" _There!_ "

"It's rude to point, Harry."

"Well - what do we do now?"

"You just have to lead us in."

"Oh. Ok."

* * *

"Is that-?"

"It _is_ -"

"Potter -"

"- _Ricky Potter_ -"

"Thought he was Augusta's boy-?"

The whispers were furious and multiple. Harry led the way through the pub with Dudley in the middle and Petunia bringing up the rear, after a whispered instruction of 'get someone magical to let us onto the street'. Having made his way to the bar, he opened his mouth to ask for assistance when the bartender spoke first.

"Bless my soul," he warbled, "It's Ricky Potter!" The whispers all hushed as the crowd strained to hear a reply.

"Er, no, sorry. My name's Harry, actually. Harry Potter." The voices returned in disappointed mutterings as the crowd dispersed. The bartender's face fell too, but he nodded politely.

"Sorry, lad. My name's Tom. How can I help?"

"Well," Harry hesitated, trying to remember his aunt's words precisely, "I, er, I'm starting, er, Hogwarts this year, and I've got no living wizarding relatives. I'm here to get to, erm, D-Diagon Alley? Only, my aunt says you need magic to get in...?" Tom smiled indulgently.

"And you want to buy your school things, I see." He met Petunia's eyes. "And would you be the lad's aunt, then?" She nodded. "How did you know about this place, then?" He asked conversationally as he led them through to the back.

"My sister was a witch." She answered stiffly. "I remembered from when she turned eleven." Tom nodded understandingly.

"Tough situation. The war, was it?" She jerked her head in reply. "Ah, I'm sorry, ma'am. Right - " They had exited the pub and were now in a grotty little backyard. " - here we are then." He withdrew his wand and marched purposefully over to the brick wall opposite. He then tapped on a few of the middle ones in sequence and stepped back with a grin. Harry and Dudley gaped in awe as they watched the wall reform into an archway into the brightest and busiest street they'd ever seen. Even Petunia managed a nostalgic curl of the lip. "Welcome," Tom announced dramatically, "To Diagon Alley!"

* * *

"But it was _goblins_ , Harry!" Dudley crowed as they exited the bank. "Actual, proper, magic-goblins!"

"I dunno what the fuss is, myself," Harry grinned, then leaned in conspiratorially, "It's the _cart ride_ that was impressive!"

"Mm," Petunia agreed faintly.

They'd had a bit of trouble over possession of the key, what with the goblins demanding a blood sample to verify Harry's identity (' _But that's_ incredibly _unsanitary!_ '), but before long they were stuffed into the cart and taken down to Harry's personal trust fund. They'd withdrawn a sickening amount of money, but then, it never hurt to be prepared, and even if Petunia _had_ been able to recall the price of work robes and potions kits from 1961, they would have been more than a little outdated.

"What've you got to get, then?"

"Dunno. Never read the list."

"Well, get it out then!" Laughing as his cousin shoved his shoulder in 'encouragement', Harry found his letter and smoothed out the second page.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _UNIFORM_

 _First-year students will require:_

 _1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

 _2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

 _3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

 _4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_

 _Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

 _COURSE BOOKS_

 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1),_ _by Miranda Goshawk_

 _A History of Magic,_ _by Bathilda Bagshot_

 _Magical Theory,_ _by Adalbert Waffling_

 _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration,_ _by Emeric Switch_

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi,_ _by Phyllida Spore_

 _Magical Drafts and Potions,_ _by Arsenius Jigger_

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,_ _by Newt Scamander_

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection,_ _by Quentin Trimble_

 _OTHER EQUIPMENT_

 _1 wand_

 _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

 _1 set glass or crystal phials_

 _1 telescope_

 _1 set brass scales_

 _Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS_

 _ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK_

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus_

 _Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions_

Dudley whistled appreciatively.

"That," he stated solemnly, "Is a _lot_ of books."

"Yeah!" Harry agreed. "Hey, look! I get a magic wand!" The two boys grinned at each other.

"Cool!"

"And," Harry added, "We're allowed pets, look!" Dudley squinted.

"Oh, yeah! ' _An owl OR a cat OR a toad._ ' A _toad?_ Really?" Harry shrugged.

"Each to their own. Why an owl, though?" He mused. "Hang on!" He shuffled back to the first page. "' _We await your owl by no later than 31 July_ ', see? Hey, Aunt Petunia?"

"Mm?" She was still feeling a little woozy.

"Do wizards normally send letters by owl? Like by pigeon, only by owl instead?"

"Mm."

"Brilliant!"

* * *

The shopkeepers they'd gone to had been ever so helpful, Harry thought. They'd understood how lost the trio had been, and had each pointed out the nearest shop available that sold something they'd not yet crossed of their shopping list. Eventually, after a few hours' legwork, the group had arrived at Ollivander's. The wandmaker had recognised Petunia, and had told Harry about both his parents' wands. Petunia proceeded to sit on the spindly old chair while Harry continued the conversation and tested out wands. Dudley, also exhausted, sat on the floor next to his mother.

"Mum?"

"Auntie?"

"Hm...? Oh, gracious! Did I fall asleep? I'm so terribly sorry!" Ollivander shook his head with a wry grin.

"No trouble at all, Miss Evans, not trouble at all..." She blushed.

"Ah, actually, I'm - "

"Oh, don't mind me, my dear, I call all women by their maiden names. That's the system - I meet them with one name, I greet them the same. How else could I remember everybody? Now, young Mr. Potter here tells me you were having trouble with your purchases."

"Oh!" She flushed again. She felt like a girl all over again in this place. It was an experience one was unlikely to ever forget, whether one bought a wand or not. "Well, we're alright, really. We've just packed Harry's trunk as we went along - "

"Yes, of course, Miss Evans, but a trunk like that is awfully heavy for two fine young men and a lovely young lady such as yourself to worry over, so I've taken the liberty of placing a feather-light charm on it. I hope you don't mind?"

"I - no, no, not at all! Why - thank you!" He smiled again.

"You're welcome, Miss Evans. Your other boy, Mr. Dursley, had information of his own to impart, however: he tells me that if you don't set off soon you shall be late for dinner."

* * *

 **Ta-da! TBC. Review?**


	4. Awkwardness on the Hogwarts Express

**8.1.16, Fri**

 **A/N: WEEKEND! I mean, exams continue on Monday and Tuesday, but for now, FREEDOM!**

 **And to answer andre scutieri** **'s fabulously constructive review, I actually wrote out a basic backstory in a surprise revision session yesterday afternoon in which I decided that - you know what? I might post it as a oneshot instead.**

 **...**

 **OR I'll just get super excited 'cos I love my backstory and I'll do a flashback this chapter. Yessss...**

 **Yeah, in case you can't tell, I don't edit my A/Ns. Or write them after the chapter unless they're at the bottom of the page. You read it in the order it comes in, guys!**

 **Iesous Darma, anotherboarduser: HELL YES dear old Dumbles is evil! Passively, true, but he's not exactly awesome. I wrote him like that to show how little he cares about people, especially his pawns. He won't be a proper villain though. I think. Maybe.**

* * *

"I'll be _fine_ , Auntie!" Harry rolled his eyes as she smoothed down his shirt collar for the hundredth time.

"Yes, yes, of course, dear, just - "

"Argh!" Harry scrambled away as she spat on a hankie and waved it toward his face. Dudley sniggered. "Hey, Dudders?" Harry smirked. " _You've_ got something on _your_ face, _too!_ " Rolling her eyes, but still compelled to act against grime in every capacity, Petunia reached towards Dudley instead.

"Mum, _no!_ I - hey, is that the time? Better get onto the platform!" With that, he grabbed Harry's collar - much to the dismay of his mother - and dragged his cousin to the barrier between platforms nine and ten. "How do we do that again?" He hissed. Harry shrugged.

"You walk straight at the wall and pass right through. Do it at a bit of a run, if you're nervous." The boys spun round wildly, only to find themselves surrounded by a sea of redheads of varying ages. One of the two adults - presumably the mother - stepped forward, indicating that she had spoken. She had a little girl clutching her arm, clearly the youngest of the bunch and the only other female. "I beg your pardon, my dear," she added with a strange glint in her eye, "but you wouldn't happen to be - ?"

" _Ricky Potter!_ " The girl whispered reverently, before burying her face into the crook of the arm she was clinging on to.

"Er, no. My name's Harry, and this is my cousin, Dudley. And, erm?"

"Oh!" The woman replied after a moment of confusion. "We're the Weasleys, dear. Molly, Arthur, Percy, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny. Bill and Charlie have already left school, and Ginny starts next year. Is this your first year at Hogwarts, then?"

"...Yes...?"

"Oh, lovely! It's Ron's first time, too, you know. I do hope you'll all be friends!" The boys smiled in puzzlement.

"Er, well, I'm not actually going. Just here to see Harry off. Hey, is that Mum?" Dudley spluttered when the Weasley matriarch's smile became slightly more forced.

" _Honestly_ , you two! I _told_ you not to run off when we _got_ here!"

"Sorry, Mum."

"Sorry, Auntie."

"And so you should be! I - oh!" Somehow, she'd only just spotted the Weasleys. "Ah. Good day?"

"Fairly. We're the Weasleys. You must be...?"

"Petunia Dursley." She said stiffly. "Hang on," her brow furrowed, "Lily used to talk about an Arthur Weasley."

"That would be me." He gave a little wave from behind his wife. "But how did you know - ?"

" _No_ , Arthur." He shrank back. Mrs. Weasley turned back to face Petunia. "How did _you_ know Lily?" Petunia gave a rigid smile.

"She was my sister. Assuming we're talking about Lily Evans, that is." She added when disbelief crossed the elder Weasleys' faces. "I think we are, though, because you're an awful lot like that Molly Prewett she knew at school."

"But - but - but - ?!"

"Shall we get onto the platform, boys? We're going to be late." She said briskly, then herded a dumbfounded Harry and Dudley through the barrier.

* * *

"Bye! Bye!" Harry waved until his family were no longer visible. Then, he closed the window and started walking down the train.

 _Ugh, no thanks_ , he thought as he passed a compartment containing only the youngest Weasley boy. Ron, his mother'd said. _Waaay too awkward_.

Unfortunately, having travelled the length of the train not half an hour later, he found himself trudging back up to Ron's compartment. There had been a couple of seats free here and there, but in some the company hardly looked pleasant and the rest were busy telling holiday stories enthusiastically enough for it to have been charades. _Thank God for that feather-light charm,_ he praised as he dragged the huge trunk along the corridor.

Arriving back at Weasley's end of the train - _finally_ \- he rapped smartly on the compartment door.

"Yeah?" Harry slid the door open.

"Sorry, just wondered if I could sit with you. Everywhere else - " He froze. Sat opposite Ron, facing the direction he'd been trudging in so he hadn't seen them, were two dark haired boys gaping back at him.

And one of them looked exactly like him.

"You're - "

"You're - "

They continued their staring match. After a minute or two, the other dark-haired stranger cleared his throat.

"I think you've got some explaining to do, Ricky." Startled, Harry spoke as the same time as his doppelganger.

"I'm _not_ Ricky Potter!"

"What makes you think it's _my_ fault?!"

The boys faced each other again. Ron scooched up one seat so that the one opposite... _the other one_... was free.

"You'd better take a seat, mate." Dazed, Harry plopped down into his seat, hugging the top of his trunk. After a moment, he spoke again -

"Who - ?"

"Who - ?"

\- at the same time as, er, _Ricky_. Then, the strange boy - who was looking rather green - took a breath.

"Alright, what's going on? Who are you and why do you look exactly like Rick? Are you some kind of superfan, or - ?"

" _Superfan?_ " Harry blurted. _What?_ "I had no idea he even _existed_ until a minute ago! Who the hell is he and why does _he_ look exactly like _me?_ "

"I - my name is Ricky Potter. But if you have no idea who I am, then how did you know who Nev was talking about earlier?"

"Good question!" Interjected Ron. " _I'd_ like to kn-!"

"Shut up," murmured Harry. Stunned, the redhead obeyed. Addressing Ricky, Harry answered, "People kept thinking I was you when I went to get my school stuff - in Diagon Alley, you know? I thought maybe I just looked a bit like you, not - " he shook his head, " - not _this_. This, I could never've predicted."

"Me neither." Ricky said, faintly.

"Well," Ricky's friend said abruptly, "My name's Neville Longbottom, this is Ricky Potter, he's Ron Weasley, and you are?"

"Harry. Harry Potter." Neville froze. So did Ricky and Ron. "No!" Harry gasped, jabbing his finger at Neville, who blinked.

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I know what you're thinking!"

"What?"

"You think I'm his twin or something. Well, I've seen Parent Trap - _no_. If I had a twin, Aunt Petunia would've mentioned it. Also, I would actually _have_ a twin. As in, I would have _grown up with a twin_. Why would they send _me_ to my only living relative and _not_ my twin?! _I don't have a twin!_ " Harry could feel himself getting hysterical. _Calm down! No need to panic until you know what's going on._

"Thanks(!)" Ricky wasn't sure why he felt insulted, but - well, it was the principle of the thing. "Glad to hear you hate the idea of being related to me so much(!)" _Oh. That's why._

"No, I - " Harry ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, God - can we just wait to deal with this when we get to Hogwarts? One of the teachers - " _McGonagall! Why didn't she_ say _anything?!_ " - is bound to be able to explain this." _Explain it_ away _, I hope._ Ricky nodded. Ron sneered suspiciously. Neville looked relieved to not have to take charge any more. Harry abruptly left his seat, snatching up his trunk. "Meanwhile, this is incredibly awkward and I'm leaving." He slid the compartment door behind him.

* * *

 **More? I can and will post multiple chapters in one day, including one explaining how Harry didn't know about Ricky - like I said, WEEKEND! - but only if you want. Don't want to be pushy.**


	5. Female Friends and Flying Fry-Ups

**27.1.16, Wed**

 **A/N: MAY have lied about updates. Basically, no-one reviewed, I was on a sugar high and got bored, didn't access the internet until IT lesson Thursday of the following week.  
**

 **Also, REACTIONS for** **Sunshine-Midnight123 (as if I wasn't going to do them anyway!) (... Right...?)**

* * *

Harry made sure to slide the door gently behind him as he exited the compartment. Controlling his breathing as best he could, he dragged his trunk slowly along the corridor, staring straight ahead and trying not to scream. Abruptly, a compartment door slid open next to him. A pair of bright brown eyes peeped curiously at him from behind a bushy brown mane of hair.

"Hello?" The furball squeaked, reminding him absurdly of an otter. Realising he was staring, Harry shook himself a little.

"Yes. Sorry. Hi." Undeterred, the girl slid the door open a little further.

"Do you need to sit down?" She'd meant to ask if he needed a compartment, but, well, he _did_ look rather stupefied.

"I - er - please?" She gave him a small smile and took his arm, guiding him to a window seat. He drooped into it in a daze, not even noticing as she magicked his trunk onto the overhead shelf. Lowering herself primly onto the seat opposite him, the girl thrust her hand into his personal space. Seeing his confusion, she said,

"I'm Hermione Granger. You're...?"

"I, erm - Harry. Harry Potter." He let her give his hand a firm shake.

"Potter? Not - "

"Not," he agreed tiredly, "Nothing to do with Ricky. Nothing _at all_ to do with Ricky." His stomach gave a rather nasty churn at the thought, and he had to ask, "Sorry, can I open the window?"

"Oh! Er, yes, of course." Hermione frowned suspiciously as Harry fumbled with the latch. "But why-?" At that point, Harry's breakfast flew past the window. "... I see."

"Sorry. Just... Things."

"Things?"

"Things." Hermione sighed. Then Harry made to wipe his mouth with his sleeve.

"Don't! I've a hankie here somewhere!" She rummaged around in her pockets - she was already in her school robes, he noted - and quickly produced a neatly folded white handkerchief. "Here, let me." Harry allowed her to wipe away the dribbles around his mouth, feeling as if this was karma for avoiding Aunt Petunia's attentions earlier.

"... Thanks." Hermione nodded and drew back.

"Welcome. Under the circumstances, I'd like to ask - not, I think, unreasonably - why you, ah-?"

"Spewed my guts out of the window, right." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "That's... I don't really know." She quirked an eyebrow. "Really," he smiled, "I just - had a bit of a shock, that's all."

"If you say so." Hermione fell silent for a moment. "I don't suppose you've tried any magic at home, then?"

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the journey chatting about the basics of the magical world with his new friend, not including the short interlude in which he changed into his school robes. Hermione turned out to be a Muggle-born, just like his mother, as they were both delighted to discover. She knew a lot more about the Wizarding World than he did ("To be fair, my knowledge is entirely vague recollections from the seventies." "Don't be ridiculous! Didn't you _read_ the textbooks?") and she was quite happy to fill him in on anything he'd missed, including the story of the Potters. This would have sent him back to the window, had it not been for Hermione's stern reminder that the tale was already in the history books and probably nothing to do with him, anyway.

"It's just a name," she admonished. "Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself, you know."

"Where did you find that?" He smirked queasily. She turned her nose up at him.

"I don't get _everything_ from books."

"Of course not," he agreed, "I just want to know where you got _that_ from." Sniffing imperiously, she told him.

"It's a quote from Professor Dumbledore, our new headmaster. It's about You-Know-Who and how one oughtn't to call him that, only no-one ever _does_ say the name so we can't actually follow his advice in that particular regard. _Honestly_ \- it's ridiculous! How can we ever be expected to learn if they won't _teach?!_ " Sensing a favourable shift in topic, Harry asked innocuously,

"Speaking of education, d'you know what house you'll be in yet?"

"Ravenclaw, of course, and don't change the subject. Everyone in our world knows it, and I won't let you start out from a position of ignorance." She took a deep breath. "Essentially - the Potters are living in hiding when, one Halloween night, they are killed by You-Know-Who. He then tries to kill their son, Ricky, who somehow deflects the Killing Curse with his forehead, leaving a rather nasty scar, and You-Know-Who dies. Ricky is taken to live with Augusta Longbottom and her baby grandson, Neville, the War is over, all hail the Boy-Who-Lived, fast forward ten years and here we are." She sucked new air into her lungs with a gasp, and smiled. "There, now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Harry shot her a dark look. His stomach was churning again, and the only thing stopping it from acting was the fear of an awful telling-off. Anything to do with Ricky was making him feel like he was being ripped to shreds, his identity torn away piece by piece, and -

"No, it was all sunshine and daisies(!) _Now_ can we talk about houses?" He whined.

"If we must." She sighed. "So, Friend Harry, what house do you think you're going to be in?"

* * *

 **...**

 **Meh.**


	6. Sorting and Seating

**1.4.16, Fri**

 **A/N: Er... Hi?  
**

* * *

"So, the whole... lake... thing..." Hermione gave a sigh.

"If the squid had _meant_ to kill you, you'd be dead." She told him matter-of-factly. "Hagrid thinks you're very lucky, you know."

" _Hagrid_ clearly has a fetish for - "

" _Harry!_ " Scandalised, she bloomed scarlet. Grinning, he stuck out his tongue at her and proceeded to vigorously shake himself like a shaggy dog in an attempt to dry himself. Hermione shrieked and shielded herself with her hands.

" _What on earth_ is going on here?!" Both children immediately straightened, whirling round to face the owner of the voice. Professor Minerva McGonagall stared back at them furiously, fists by her sides. Blinking, she reassessed the scene. "Did you fancy a dip in the lake, Potter?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "The squid seemed to take to me rather. Professor."

McGonagall sighed, withdrew her wand and waved it at him, drying him from head to toe in an instant. Straightening, she raised her voice again.

"Alright, children. Form a line, walk in pairs, and do try to keep up." Eyeing Harry and Hermione, who had begun to shrink into the background, she added, "You two, front and centre where I can keep an eye on you." Grumbling, they all arranged themselves. "Everyone ready? Yes? Welcome to Hogwarts."

With that, the huge wooden doors swung open.

* * *

"Granger, Hermione!"

"Good luck," Harry whispered as she set off, "Fingers crossed for Ravenclaw, eh?" The corners of her mouth twitched upward nervously as she left his side and walked up the dais.

After a few minutes, the hat readied itself to declare her house.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Both Harry and Hermione started. They exchanged shocked glances as she shuffled over to her table. Harry watched her shake hands with a bespectacled redhead - Percy, if memory served - and turned back to watch the ceremony continue.

Soon afterwards, once Neville had joined Hermione and two Patils, a Parkinson and a Perks had been Sorted, Harry was called. His stomach churned as he plodded up the steps. His hands fumbled when putting the Hat on, and it slipped over his eyes. He briefly attempted to adjust it, before realising that his head was simply too small for repositioning to make a difference. Besides, there were more interesting things to think about.

"Hmm," said the Hat, right in his ear, "Difficult. Very difficult... Plenty of courage, I see. A little - _rough_ , perhaps - not a bad mind though. Oho, no - not a bad mind _at all_... a nice thirst to prove yourself, mm? Oh, and - oh, now that _is_ interesting..."

 _What?_ Harry tried to project his thoughts. _What's interesting?_

"The Granger girl. The other Potter boy - oh, good gracious heavens, not _another_ Weasley?!"

 _His sister's the last_ , Harry supplied helpfully, _and she'll be starting next year._

"How terribly comforting." Said the Hat dryly. "I look forward to being rid of them for a decade or so. You seem to have a penchant for subject-changing, young man."

 _Sorry._

"Neverthemind - I happen to enjoy wresting them back. So, boy - where to put you?"

 _Well, I_ had _wanted Ravenclaw_ , he suggested hesitantly.

"Really?" The Hat asked. "You don't sound so sure."

 _We thought we'd both end up there, and_ Ricky _would be stuck in Gryffindor with his friends. Birds of a feather and all that._

"But now she's in Gryffindor, you've changed your mind? How very Slytherin of you."

 _Oh, God, not_ Slytherin!

"Why not? You could be great, you know."

 _I can be great anywhere I wish!_

"Oh, can you now?"

 _Yes! But if I'm in_ Slytherin, _I'll be singled out. I'd be a target, and I've no patience for playground politics. Please, just... this is hard enough as it is._

The Hat gave a mental huff. "Very well. But if you want to go unnoticed, I think it's a bit late for that. GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word was yelled out to the rest of the hall, and Harry scampered off to join his friend.

* * *

"So," Percy began, glancing between the twins. How they'd managed to end up sat together, they could not fathom. " _Two_ Potters. W-?"

"Did you know that the ceiling's bewitched, Harry?" Hermione oh-so-subtly diverted the conversation. "The spell makes it so that the ceiling always appears as the sky outside. Is that ghost Nearly Headless Nick? Excuse me, are you - ?"

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, young lady."

"I was just wondering, sir, why _Nearly_ Headless?"

"Yeah, I was wond'rin' tha' an' all!"

As Seamus joined in the fun, Harry and Ricky breathed identical sighs of relief. This prompted an exchange of suspicious glares between them, then a mutual decision to ignore the problem and hope it went away.

After Nick's grisly display was over and done with, Harry felt secure enough to mutter, "Thanks."

Hermione smiled. "That's what friends are for."

Harry barked a laugh. "Wouldn't know. My only friend was my lard-arse of a cousin, and we spent all our time avoiding bullies and being broody outcasts, so I don't think we qualify for a _normal_ relationship."

She snorted. "That's just so _brutal_. You're very blunt, have I told you that?"

"Only about fifty-seven times since we met, which, considering that was noon today, is fairly impressive." He laughed as she slugged him in the arm.

"Oh, shut up! And it's not like you were undeserving!" Sniggers lapsing into silence, they didn't speak for a few minutes.

"So Dumbledore's a bit mental, isn't he?"

* * *

"... so you're saying Hogwarts is a city-state within the borders of another country?" Percy nodded.

"Hence the analogy of Vatican City. I told you, I know about that kind of thing. Penny in Arithmancy is Catholic."

Harry was frowning. "So whose guardianship are we under?" Caught off guard, Percy glanced at him quizzically.

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, are we under Dumbledore's care because we're in a school, so you know, in loco parentis and all that, or are we under the care of the Queen because we're in another country?" A flash of comprehension lit up Hermione's eyes.

"That's actually a really good question!" Ignoring Harry's muttered protest, she turned back to face the Prefect. "So which is it? School or government?"

Percy's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Hm. Now that I think about it... I'm not really sure. Arguments could be made for both, I expect - perhaps Penny's the one you ought to be asking."

Hermione deflated slightly, but still asked, "And how do we do that? I ought to tell my parents if my guardian _isn't_ the Headmaster."

"Oh, that's easy." Percy smiled. "Penny's one of the Ravenclaw Prefects from my year, we share most classes. Tell you what - once you've settled in, I'll arrange for us to all sit down and talk about it. You're right - parents really _should_ be informed about who's legally responsible for their children."

Hermione seemed satisfied, but Harry snorted. "I'm putting my money on the Ministry. We don't know, which means Dumbo doesn't want us to know, which means he's covering up a lack of control on his part with the illusion of absolute power."

Percy and Hermione were both looking at him strangely. "How d'you work that one out?"

Just for a moment, the green of Harry's eyes seemed to flash a little colder. "It's what I'd do."

* * *

 **A/N: So sorry this has been a while! But, you know, things to do, revision to avoid - it's a busy time.**

 **On another note, I started a Firefly/Avatar: The Last Airbender crossover. It's Zutara, b/c YOLO.**

 **On yet _another_ note, I will immediately begin writing the next chapter of this story and may post it today. **

**Review!**


	7. Welcome to Hogwarts

**2.4.16, Sat - 5.4.16, Tues (twenty past midnight though, so just barely out of Monday) (I usually write chapters all at once, then publish them, but I didn't have time this weekend.)**

 **A/N: I really hope you like where I'm taking the story. I have to do actual _plot_ now, and that's going to be hard. Really hard. Like, _concentration_ hard.  
**

 **I also hope you reviewed last chapter. And this one. I like reviews.**

* * *

Yawning, and more than a little befuddled after the impromptu sing-song before bed, Harry plodded up the many, many stairs to the dormitories.

Hermione was still on his left, yawning just as he was, but he'd managed to escape Ricky for the moment. His twin - and it was still weird to think about - had apparently fallen in love with Ron Weasley and was even now attempting to continue their conversation about Quidditch. Harry wasn't entirely sure what had happened to Neville, but Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were sleepily walking in tandem behind Percy, who proudly herded the procession of eleven-year-olds up to Gryffindor tower. There were a few girls with them, including one of the Patil twins, who looked not at all despondant, having acquired another girl wearing lipgloss to chatter with. Harry saw the irony in the situation: it mirrored the setup he'd planned for himself and Ricky, right down to giving the Gryffindor twin a new best friend to distract them.

In his dreamlike state, Harry barely even registered the pointing and whispers of the portraits surrounding them, despite having waited years to finally see such a spectacle. Regardless of the fact he'd grown up with a television, he'd always been fascinated by the idea of a moving picture. The photo of his mother McGonagall had once brought him was beautiful and precious to him for entirely different reasons. He had a picture of his father too, but didn't value it nearly as much. After all, if he wanted to know what his father looked like, he could always just look in the mirror.

Or, indeed, at Ricky. Harry hefted a deadened arm to rub his eyes underneath his glasses. All his thoughts were circling back round to his impossible identical twin, and he just couldn't _stop_ -

He didn't understand why McGonagall hadn't said anything. He didn't understand why his _aunt_ hadn't said anything - that reminded him, he needed to write to her in the morning. Or tomorrow evening. Or on Saturday when there was no school. Keeping secrets he could understand. Keeping a secret like _that_ \- that, he couldn't fathom for the life of him.

He might not have been the most candid person in the world - not by a long shot - but he expected a certain level of honesty from others, always had done. It was a part of his personality he'd tried to erase for years. That, and his ability to see the goodness and trustworthiness of everyone around him. He hated that. It was a vulnerability on his part, one he made sure to hide if he could. Frankly, he found it embarrassing. He had no desire to be one of those people who thought the entire world was made of candyfloss and unicorns.

With a jerk, Harry was pulled out of his dazed musings when he walked right into the Patil twin. Before he could ask why they'd stopped, his attention was captured by Percy up ahead.

"Peeves," the Prefect whispered. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice to address the bundle of walking sticks floating in the corridor. "Peeves - show yourself."He was answered with the blowing of an obscenely loud and drawn-out rasperry. "Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?" _The Slytherin ghost_ _? Interesting..._

There was a _pop_ and a little man with mischievous dark eyes and a gaping, grinning mouth appeared. Floating in mid-air with his legs crossed, he was clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" The poltergeist cackled evilly. "Ickle firsties! What fun!" He suddenly swooped down on them.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" Peeves stuck out his tongue and dropped the walking sticks. Harry heard Neville yelp. _So that's where he went._ Percy sighed and motioned for them to continue. "You want to watch out for Peeves," he said as they resumed their trek. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us Prefects. Here we are."

Once again walking right into Patil's back - this time with a mumbled _sorry_ \- Harry looked up at the wall where they'd stopped. It was the end of a corridor, and there was a portrait of a fat woman in a pink silk dress hanging there. The woman turned regally to face them, and she asked, "Password?"

" _Caput Draconis_ ," came Percy's reply, and the painting swung out at them (they all stepped back hastily) to reveal a round hole halfway up the wall. One by one, they all wriggled through - Harry had to give Neville a leg up - into what appeared to be the Gryffindor common room. It was a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs, with two doors in the wall opposite. Percy pointed the girls to one door and the boys through the other. "Your year gets the highest dorms," he added. "They belonged to the old seventh-years, see?" Harry was quite sure he and Hermione were the only ones awake enough to do so.

They said goodnight to each other and went their separate ways, Harry falling into step alongside Neville on their way to the top of the spiral staircase. Eventually, the boys found themselves in a large room with five four-poster beds lining the walls, hung with blood-red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up and placed by the beds, so they didn't have to go through the process of choosing where to sleep. Harry found himself between Neville and the door, with Ricky on Neville's other side, then Ron, then Seamus, then Dean.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron yawned. Ricky grunted in reply, finally having run out of energy. "Get _off,_ Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."

"Shouldn't take rats to bed, then, should you?" Harry muttered to himself. He paused. "Huh. Metaphor for life, right there." The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was Neville's quiet snickering.

* * *

The whispering was seriously getting to him.

Not only did Harry share all his classes with his unwanted brother, he also apparently shared the attention of the masses. The whole school seemed to be talking about 'the other Potter kid' just as much as 'the Boy-Who-Lived', and people were even standing on tiptoe and doubling back through corridors to look at them. Soon enough, though, Ricky started stealing the limelight once more. He and Ron had managed to get caught attempting to enter the forbidden third-floor corridor on their very first morning, saving themselves a detention with Filch only by rescue from Professor Quirrell, who had happened to be passing at the time.

As a result of Ricky and Ron's blossoming love affair (as Harry had gleefully labelled it), Harry and Hermione often found themselves spending time with Neville. This was perpetuated by Harry's lack of friends among the boys in his dorm, as he refused to socialise with Ricky or Ron and was reluctant to intrude on Seamus and Dean's fledgling friendship. This left only Neville, and so the pair found themselves talking and playing games together when the other 'couples' were doing their own thing. It turned out that the two of them actually got along rather well, though. They enjoyed all the common wizarding games like chess and Exploding Snap and gobstones, and they were both a little more lonely and isolated then they would like to admit. Neville was trying to adjust to life apart form Ricky, his pseudo-brother, for the first time, just as Harry was adjusting to the loss of Dudley. Whether it was a boy thing or a twin thing, each Potter boy had grown up living with a best friend of the same age and each had found a new one upon entering boarding school. What Harry found odd was that Ricky had done it even when he'd been able to bring Neville with him.

"Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't hang out with Ron if you paid me, but it _is_ a little weird that Rick'd just dump you the minute they met. Knight to E2."

Neville frowned. "Well, we couldn't really spend time with other kids when we were younger, y'know? Because of the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing. So I guess he's just excited about new people. Bishop to F3."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're killing me here, Nev. Let's see... Knight to... G... 1?" He winced as Neville's own knight hopped out from behind a row of pawns and smashed his to pieces. " _Ouch_. But seriously - for him to just latch on like the creepy limpet he is, it really _must_ have been love at first sight."

Neville sighed. " _They're not gay_ , Harry."

"Actually, given that Harry claims to be heterosexual, and they're mirror twins, it's entirely possible - probable, even - that Ricky is gay." Hermione dumped a pile of books on the table next to them with a _thunk_.

"See?" Harry crowed. "Even _Hermione_ thinks that - wait, ' _claims_ to be -'?!"

"The recent Buhrich, Bailey, & Martin study found the correlation of sexuality to be 47% for identical twins. That's less than half. Earlier studies found the percentage to be higher, but the numbers go down the further forward in time you go. One wonders if that's to do with the decrease in homophobia..."

Harry and Neville shared a _look_.

"Pawn to B5."

"You can't do that."

"What? Why?"

"You've just put yourself in check."

"Oh, for-!"

* * *

Aside from his developing social life, Harry was also getting used to his new timetable and lessons. Harry had assumed Transfiguration was going to be a sore spot, and in the first lesson he had felt awkward and out of place. Too distracted to concentrate on his work, he'd accidentally managed to transfigure his left pinky finger into a match instead of a match into a needle. Professor McGonagall took him to the hospital wing herself, and seized the opportunity to talk to him about Ricky and Hogwarts and everything else that was bugging him. It transpired that, as a member of Dumbledore's staff, she was obliged to 'follow the party line', as it were, which, in this case, meant keeping Harry in the dark about Ricky and vice versa. "Not that I ever visited Ricky," she added. "Albus thought it best to let him have a normal wizarding childhood, without his future teachers in his life. Besides, I thought you'd probably need me more."

"So... Professor Dumbledore didn't care whether or not _I_ had a good childhood?" McGonagall bit her lip. Harry chuckled bitterly. "Right. I'm not the _special_ one."

Placing her hand on his shoulder, McGonagall answered softly, "You _are_ special. Special to your parents, your godfather, Hagrid, me... You're not the Boy-Who-Lived. But who says that's the best thing to be?" Tears welled up in Harry's eyes.

"Sorry," he gasped. "I don't know - it's the stress, probably, I'm just - I'll be fine in a minute, honest - "

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter," she said gruffly, encasing him in a bony hug. "You've held up remarkably well so far. Everyone has a breaking point."

Wriggling out from under her arms, Harry ripped his glasses off and rubbed his eyes angrily. " _I_ don't! Or - haven't, I don't know - I mean, it's just a little release from bottling things up, y'know? Had to happen. Always does, in the end. I'll be good for the next six months at least. You'll see. It just - happens, every now and again. Like clockwork. I'm not - I wouldn't be crying, otherwise."

Patting him on the back, McGonagall shot him a doubtful look, but decided that it was probably just a botched explanation of how boys pretend they don't have emotions. "Will you be alright to go to lunch in a wee while? You might as well have missed Charms."

He nodded, and she left him in Madam Pomfrey's care to ensure the reversal of the spell had not damaged his hand at all.

* * *

In his first Charms lesson, Harry discovered that he and Hermione had been split up by the alphabetical order of the seating plan. Much to their dismay, the Potter twins ended up paired together for the lesson. As it turned out, they would be paired together for the entirety of the following year. Suffice to say, neither were terribly pleased by the arrangement, and each went to speak to Professor Flitwick in private about it. Both were rebuffed.

Astronomy and Herbology were different matters entirely, and the quiet majesty of the heavens and the happy chaos of the greenhouses were paradises for Harry and Hermione both. Herbology in particular was a good lesson for them, as it appeared to be the only subject for which Neville possessed any aptitude - and his talent more than made up for his other studies. Harry and Hermione found Herbology to be a fail-safe way of getting Neville out of his shell, and he himself found great pleasure in discussing rare magical plants with peers who both understood and cared about them.

History of Magic, on the other hand, was sacred only to Harry and Hermione. They both loved history and had expected to enjoy this lesson above all others. Finding that the lessons themselves were less than enthralling, the pair still took notes all the way through and read more colourful accounts of the events in their free time. It was soon revealed that they were the only two students in the school who cared at all about the subject, however, and it wasn't long before the requests came in.

"Oi, Potter, you done the HoM essay? Lend us it for half an hour, would you?"

"Hermione, you wouldn't happen to have the notes from the _middle_ of Binns' lecture, would you? Only I was... um... I missed that part."

"Wait, so is it 'Emeric the Oddball' and 'Uric the Evil', or 'Emeric the Evil' and 'Uric the Oddball'? See, I get the alliteration thing, but 'Uric the Evil' just _sounds_ better..."

It wasn't until Ron and Ricky decided to approach them that sparks really flew.

"Hey, uh, Harry?"

Harry froze. Thus far, he and Ricky had managed to avoid social interaction almost entirely. Without looking up, he answered, "What?"

Taken aback by the frosty tone, Ricky gulped. "I, uh, I was - I just wondered if you'd done the notes for HoM. Er, History of Magic."

When Harry failed to answer, Ron snapped, "What's the matter with you?! Is it really too much bother for you to help your own _brother?!_ "

Harry was on his feet in an instant. "He's _not_ my brother! And if he cares so much about family, why has he barely spoken to Neville since we got here? That's the _real_ question!" With that, he spun on his heel and stormed up to the dormitory, leaving Ron fuming and Ricky gobsmacked.

* * *

Most of the first years were very much looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts, and filed into the classroom ready to be dazzled. Unfortunately, the lesson itself failed to live up to the hype so utterly that, once they had experienced all of their different subjects, it became Harry and Hermione's least favourite. Despite being brave enough to rescue Ron and Ricky from Filch earlier in the week, Professor Quirrell turned out to have a crippling stutter (" _How_ could they hire someone as a lecturer when they can barely _speak?!_ " "It's not _his_ fault, Hermione!") and the classroom smelt overwhelmingly of garlic. This was generally attributed to Quirrell's fear that a vampire he'd met in Romania would one day come after him. Another odd anecdote was the story behind Quirrell's turban; according to the Professor, it had been a gift from an African prince for getting rid of a zombie, but since Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather when Seamus asked about it, most people subscribed to the Weasley twins' theory that the turban - which smelt funny itself - was also stuffed with garlic, just in case the mysterious vampire attacked Quirrell outside of his classroom.

Harry and Hermione were very much looking forward to their first Potions lesson on Friday morning. They had both eagerly anticipated Chemistry lessons at a Muggle secondary school before finding out about Hogwarts (another detail McGonagall hadn't shared) and were delighted to discover a wizarding equivalent. Neville, on the other hand, was far less enthusiastic.

"Everyone hates Snape, y'know? They say he's evil, like, really, _really_ scary. And he favours Slytherin, because he's their Head of House, which means he hates Gryffindors. _Hates_ us, okay?" Harry reached out to grab Neville's arms, which were flapping wildly to punctuate his points.

"Try not to poke anyone's eye out there, Nev. Relax. I'm sure it'll be fine."

It was not fine.

Snape took the register, as did Flitwick, only instead of squeaking and falling off his desk (he was, after all, of an average height and had no need to stand on one) when he reached the Potter twins, Snape curled his lip into a vicious sneer. "Ah, yes. Mr Harry Potter, our little... surprise. And Mr Ricky Potter. Our - new - _celebrity_."

Harry had tensed when Snape got to his name, but soon realised he was not the true target. In response to his own introduction, Ricky - who sat two rows behind Harry - slid down his seat, apparently trying to become invisible. Three Slytherin boys - one blond, two - well, _huge_ \- snickered behind their hands at the jibes. Snape continued to read the register, then set it down.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..." Harry and Hermione sat on the edge of their (front row) seats, enraptured. Neville merely trembled, though he did have a slightly awestruck expression. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry and Hermione exchanged determined glances. They had no intention of proving themselves dunderheads. Neville shrank back a little when they raised fierce eyebrows at him.

"Potter!" Snape said suddenly.

"Yes, sir?" They answered - and jumped - simultaneously. Snape glowered.

" _Ricky_ Potter." Harry relaxed. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand under the table to stop her from raising it. He smirked as Ricky stuttered before saying that he didn't know. He soon stopped when Snape's eyes flashed back to him briefly.

"Tut, tut - let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

The three Slytherins who'd snickered earlier were now shaking with laughter. Harry, too, was finding it difficult to appear unamused. Petulant as it was, he considered this to be partial payback for the emotional turmoil he'd been put through that week. Also, if he focused on how funny it was, he'd stop feeling so guilty about not helping Ricky when he was being picked on.

It turned out Ricky didn't know about bezoars, either.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry could _feel_ the indignation radiating from Ricky. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I - I _don't know!_ "

"A point from Gryffindor house for raising your voice at a Professor, Potter. As this is the first week of term and there are few points yet for me to take, I am being lenient. Next time it will be twenty." Ricky shrank back in his seat as Snape turned away from him. "Harry Potter!"

Startled, Harry jumped. "Er, yes sir?"

"Bearing in mind that you were raised away from the magical world, let us see how _you_ fare with the same questions." Snape stalked up to Harry's seat. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Shooting a guilty glance at Ricky, Harry swallowed. "Well, they're - aren't they, um, poisonous, sir?" Snape's face remained blank. "So - so wouldn't they make a - a sleeping draught or a poison?"

"They combine to make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. Well done, Mr Potter. Next question," he said when Harry sagged with relief. "Where would you look, Potter, if I told you to find me a bezoar.?"

"Um," Harry's face screwed up in concentration. "They're something to do with gallstones, right? Wait - alliteration... gannets, goslings, geese, goats - it's goats, isn't it? Goats' gallstones?"

Harry could have sworn he saw a smile flash across Snape's face. "Correct, Mr Potter. A little crude, but - correct. Now," _The last one!_ Harry thought. _Thank goodness._ "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Smiling nervously now, Harry said, "Well, I had thought they were different names for aconite, but if there is a difference, might it be different genuses of the same plant?"

"You were correct in your original assumption, Mr Potter, and the plural of genus is genera. Five points to Gryffindor." Snape turned away, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from the other students in the room. "It seems fame isn't everything, Ricky. Now, why weren't any of you - save Miss Granger - copying that down?"

That prompted a sudden scrabbling for quills and parchment, during which Snape swept back up to the blackboard and wrote up the instructions for a simple potion to cure boils. As the children worked, he swooped down on them one by one like an overlarge bat.

"Lovely work on those snake fangs, Mr Malfoy. Perhaps just once more to be absolutely certain, there's a lad."

"Heavens above, Mr Weasley, what on earth possessed you to start stewing _sea_ slugs? Fetch some _horned_ slugs from the cupboard and start again."

" _No_ , Longbottom! Take the cauldron _off_ the fire _before_ you add the porcupine quills!"

"See me after class, Potter." Harry would have been terrified were it not for the blank expression Snape wore. The Potions master openly sneered at Ricky, so a blank expression should be safe. Right?

After the class ended, thankfully without incident, Harry packed up his things and told Hermione and Neville that he'd catch them up. Snape sat at his desk and fixed Harry with a contemplative gaze. He was the first to speak.

"Stanwell Fields Church of England Primary School, Stanwell Moor, between Little Whinging and Cokeworth. I didn't know Mrs Atherton still taught there."

Gaping, Harry asked, "I - yes, sir, but how-?!"

"Your mother and I both went. We had to learn about goats' gallstones too. I suppose your aunt mentioned it was our old school?"

"Actually, no, sir. She did mention you though, now that I think about it." Snape's slight smile twisted into a grimace.

"Nothing good, I take it?"

"Well," Harry said slowly, "Nothing much, more like. Just 'that awful Snape boy from Spinner's End', and something about you insulting my mother near the end of Hogwarts and how you didn't speak after that."

"I see." He paused. "We used to be best friends, your mother and I. When I... insulted her, I'd just been thoroughly humiliated by your father. He was a bit of a bully in those days, always took his pranks a step too far and somehow singled me out from day one - probably because he liked Lily, and thought I was turning her against him or some such nonsense. Well, with me out of the picture, she managed to make him change his ways, but he never did bother to apologise for the five years of torment he'd given me. By then, of course, we were on opposite sides of the war, so I suppose... Never mind." He could see that his ramblings were going over Harry's head just a little, so he concluded with, "Well, it seems that you'll be a much better potioneer than... the other one... and tell Miss Granger I expect great things from her, too. Dismissed."

And with that, Harry went to join his friends, head spinning. _I'm going to sleep all weekend. This is way too much to process all at once._

* * *

 **A/N: Whew! Mammoth of a chapter, eh? This is what happens when I get interrupted. I just write almost a whole chapter, then when I get back to it I have a new chapter in my head and they just sort of conjoin. Speaking of conjoining - just for the LOLs, I googled sexualities of twins and I found some really interesting answers online:**

 **"Identical twins have the same sexual orientation approximately 60% of the time. If they are fraternal twins it happens approximately 16% of the time.**  
 **The 1952 Kallmann study found the correlation to be 100% for identical twins and 15% for fraternal twins; the 1968 Heston & Shields study found the correlation to be 50% for identical twins and 14% for fraternal twins; the 1991 Buhrich, Bailey, & Martin study found the correlation to be 47% for identical twins and 0% for fraternal twins; the 1991 Bailey & Pillard study found the correlation to be 52% for identical twins and 22% for fraternal twins; the 1993 Whitam, Diamond, & the Martin study found the correlation to be 65% for identical twins and 29% for fraternal twins. In a study exclusively with lesbian identical twins, the 1993 Bailey, Pillard, Neale, & Agyei study found the correlation to be 48% for identical twins and 16% for fraternal twins."**

 **"Identical twins actually ARE clones. They're natural clones, but they are genetically identical. They were the same person until the developing embryo divided in the womb. The genetic code was already 100% decided and permanent from the moment of conception, so identical twins are genetically indistinguishable from each other.**  
 **This can create some confusion and apparent concerns or false logical triumphs for people on various sides of certain socio-political issues. That's only because they don't understand the biology or psychology of sexual orientation. Sexual orientation is not a binary thing. Nobody is gay. Nobody is straight. Preference is not an "Either/or" thing, it's an entire infinite spectrum, with nobody on the extreme ends of either. Your hardwiring (genetics, etc.) determines your tendencies. Your software (experiences in life) influences how you perceive it. Even identical twins raised together have different life experience, even if they do the same things together all the time, it's always from a different perspective.**  
 **The whole "choice" argument is silly to start with. Ultimately, nothing is a choice. We are biological computers. We will do as our biology and our programming dictates in any situation. Free will is an illusion. It's an important one to our social construct, but nobody really chooses anything. It's all chosen for you."**

 **Also, I found this awesome webpage about the location of Privet Drive in the real world and the island Vernon takes them to when Harry gets his letter. It's totally awesome - it has a really weird web address and links don't work on this anyway, but I googled "** **primary schools little whinging surrey" and it was the second result. Seriously, check it out. Also, Stanwell Fields C of E is a real school. I used it because according to that page, Stanwell Moor is the real Little Whinging or the nearest place to it, assuming Little Whinging is a totally fictional suburb.**

 **Also (and I am very much overusing that word today), if the gay thing worries you, a) most kids that age make those jokes and no-one cares, and b) I'm gay so I'm allowed. So there.**

 **VVxxxx**


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